openings as there were, the
_Forward_ succeeded in getting a few minutes farther north; but,
instead of escaping the enemy, it would soon be necessary to attack
it; ice-fields of many miles in extent were drawing together, and as
these moving masses often represent a pressure of ten millions of
tons, they were obliged to take every precaution against being crushed
by them. Ice-saws were placed outside the vessel, where they could be
used without delay.

Some of the crew endured their hard toil without a murmur, but others
complained or even refused to obey orders. While they were putting the
saws in place, Garry, Bolton, Pen, and Gripper exchanged their diverse
opinions as follows.

"Deuce take it," said Bolton, cheerfully; "I don't know why it just
occurs to me that in Water Street there's a comfortable tavern, where
one might be very well off between a glass of gin and a bottle of
porter. Can you see it from here, Gripper?"

"To tell the truth," answered the sailor who had been addressed, and
who generally pretended to be very sullen, "I must say I can't see it
from here."

"That's merely your way of talking, Gripper; it is evident that, in
those snow towns which Dr. Clawbonny is always admiring, there's no
tavern where a poor sailor can moisten his throat with a drink or two
of brandy."

"You may be sure of that, Bolton; and you might add that on board of
this ship there's no way of getting properly refreshed. A strange
idea, sending people into the northern seas, and giving them nothing
to drink!"

"Well," answered Garry, "have you forgotten, Gripper, what the doctor
said? One must go without spirits if he expects to escape the scurvy,
remain in good health, and sail far."

"I don't care to sail far, Garry; and I think it's enough to have come
as far as this, and to try to get through here where the Devil doesn't
mean to let us through."

"Well, we sha'n't get through," retorted Pen. "O, when I think I have
already forgotten how gin tastes!"

"But," said Bolton, "remember what the doctor said."

"O," answered Pen, with his rough voice, "that's all very well to say!
I fancy that they are economizing it under the pretext of saving our
health."

"Perhaps that devil Pen is right," said Gripper.

"Come, come!" replied Bolton, "his nose is too red for that; and if a
little abstinence should make it a trifle paler, Pen won't need to be
pitied."

"Don't trouble yourself about my nose," was the answer, for